Affinity in Misery
by NaughtFiction
Summary: What happens when the kids are away for the night, and the Young Hunter is in the company of a dangerous woman in disguise? There are drinks, revelations, and an underlying hunger in them both that asks to be fulfilled. This is a mature themed, one-off that (abridgely) follows Chisa's Side Stories, The Date Part 2. Sexual themes and content ensue.


**A/N: Considering this is the first "lemon" related thing I've ever written, I should probably put up the disclaimer now with the sort of content it'll build up too. I** **had taken some time writing these scenes out and trying to remain true to the characters within them. Remember that there's a bit of pushing and pulling between these two, and while it may not be a confirmed ship, they are free to engage in the sort of activities people with high stress occupations do. So I hope you enjoy this slow burn one-off, and that it lives up to the material you shippers out there are used to.**

* * *

"You rule over nightmares huh? What's that like?"

Sibyll looked up from his pint of amber liquid to the woman across from him. Alternative places to talk were dwindling as the night grew long, and he knew of one in particular he felt comfortable in. It had taken some time, but when they arrived at _Patillo's_ most the crowd had already dispersed for the evening, save for a few Hunters nursing a glass or two. The usual barkeep Grady was absent, and the bar was currently manned by his husband Harris; a younger and thin man with olive skin, auburn dyed hair, and dark brown eyes. Dressed in a familiar outfit of a slack, button shirt, and an apron, he welcomed them openly. When he confirmed Sylvia was legally able to drink, he nodded over to one of the booths where they could have their own privacy. They hung their coats on nearby hooks, and at her suggestion ordered drinks to keep them occupied.

He didn't plan to have one, but she insisted, claiming that "refusing the first drink at a bar was bad luck." Whether or not it was true, he felt there was _some_ merit in partaking of a few pints. Sibyll had been mostly the reluctant the entirety of their outing, and to leave a young woman to drink on her own after everything felt wrong. He would entreat her more as a means of thanking her efforts, even if the alcohol lacked in… a "specific taste."

"It was all theatrics and nothing more."

"Hmm~? I dunno~! You seemed really comfortable in your role if it's only for show."

"If comfort could be found in humiliation and mortification, then I enjoyed it immensely."

Sylvia frowned over the blatant sarcasm.

"You did it for _your girl_ when she called out to you." There was a slight, sharp inflection of her words which echoed in his thoughts.

 _Your girl, your girl, your girl_

Was she? They weren't family despite acting like one, and he had no right to the title after what he had done. He cared for the girl, that much was true, and found comfort in her presence. Yet there was a small part of him that chided those thoughts, reminding him of what he truly is.

"She is the only exception," he admits openly. "If it were Ruby or anyone else who wished to call upon me, I would have declined."

" ** _We_** sang together."

"Against my will."

Sylvia frowns again at him, menacingly, sipping at her drink in spite while Sibyll let out a small smile. He had finally found a chink in her armor, and it was somewhat satisfying to rile the woman who had vexed him in the entirety of their "date". Even the way she pouted her lips, tilting her chin high as she nudged his ankles painfully was charming in its own way. A young woman envious of a little girl? The more he thought about it, the more the nudging continues as if she read his thoughts. He shook his head in "defeat", knowing he had his fill on feeling what she must have felt the whole evening.

"I will confess that I did find _some_ enjoyment, even if it was something I am unaccustomed to."

"So you _are_ as masochistic as I thought?"

He prodded her leg underneath the table as a similar warning.

"Alright, alright," she conceded. "Really though, I'm interested in that whole 'nightmare world' you professed so proudly. It's not everyday someone sings about horror as lively as you did."

Sibyll gave a mirthless chuckle.

"There is nothing to be proud of. It is merely a myth meant to remind us that our work has consequences."

It was only a half truth, as far as what he allowed himself to say. Gehrman had only warned him once of the Hunter's Nightmare, and stated that he had seen his fair share of newly contracted Hunters suffer such fate. It was enough to discourage Sibyll from becoming to focused in his work, forcing him to the Hunter's Dream to recuperate from Yharnam's horrors.

"If a Hunter takes too much enjoyment in their work, they will eventually succumb to an insatiable need for violence. What starts as careless missteps becomes brash arrogance. They will know no other joy, no other sensation than the thrill of a hunt, and they are haunted eternally by it. It is unsavory to say the least, one of hubris and folly."

"Wow," Sylvia looked impressed. "Never heard of the something like that before."

"It is not something known to this world."

" _This_ world?"

Sibyll caught himself for a moment, cursing himself inwardly.

"Oh!" She snapped her fingers. "You're from the outside right? So being inside the wall is completely new to you."

"Precisely," he answered. If she gave him an out unknowingly, he would use it to his advantage.

"I guess that's the difference between 'in here' and 'out there'. Nobody really knows just how bad it is outside these walls the rest of us is trying to protect."

"Certain realities are never truly known," he added. "Some live their lives without knowing the cost of it."

"Is that why team RWBY looks like they're bothered with you?"

She studied his reaction, taking a small sip from her glass as she pushed onward. He was definitely surprised by he sudden change in subject and tone, but he also couldn't deny the how they reacted as well. Those words were something he something that came out naturally, without so much thought or personal consent, but in a sense it was true. In their eyes, even beyond Ruby and her team, he was still an outsider. He was as alien them as he was dangerously contrary to their core beliefs. He wished he could deny it, and say they were on good terms. Yet the fact remains that they weren't; their last conversation ensured that the suspicion was firmly rooted against him. Blake was just at risk of the Nightmare as he was, but he could see how they, even Ruby, was more concerned for her than him.

"Weiss and Blake seemed nice at dinner," Sylvia noted. "But the rest of them didn't seem happy with you during your closing performance tonight. Aside from how ridiculous you were, did you do something recently to rub them the wrong way?"

"You could say that…"

He exhaled a sigh as he traced a finger around the rim of the glass. Sylvia frowns, and reaches out to place a hand over his. Orange eyes flickered up to meet hers and he realized that she wasn't teasing him this time. Those verdant eyes were a mix of genuine concern and curiosity, hoping to learn more about him.

"I take it there is a sort of reputation circulating about me, yes?"

"A few," she admitted. "Since you arrived, there have been rumors about who you might actually be. The video of your apparent freak out have a few thinking you've got some screws loose, and that team RWBY is stuck watching over some mentally unstable loon."

" _I suppose some of it is accurate,"_ he thought to himself.

"Others think you're some sort of 'trophy hunter' with a dark agenda. They think the rumors about the man attacking Grimm and leaving them in a messy state outside the walls are about you."

" _A few of those details are undeniable."_

"I heard a few talking about how you might be working for someone in particular. Because you're so out of your element inside the walls, they think you might be some sort of agent of an outside settlement or association.

" _Somewhat speculative…"_

"And just recently, they're starting to think you're in a twisted and open relationship with the girls of team RWBY. There's even a private betting pool going on to see which of the freshmen 'claimed' you first."

"Forgive me, but an open…what?" he voiced his confusion.

"An open relationship. You know? Four young girls and an older man?"

Was that so strange? Sibyll thought about it some more, unsure why such a concept would be worthy of gossip. His relationship with Ruby and her team was professional, if not constantly strained and tense. Did 'open' mean that they were straightforward with one another? He had certainly tired that, but with mixed results and he doubted that it could mean trusting one another. He shook his head, and a small smile crept onto her face.

She pulled out her scroll and showed him the still popular video of his fight with Qrow and Winter. It was a reminder he wished to have forgotten, knowing he had lost a small amount of control then. He should have known better than to expose himself further. Showing not only those aligned with Ozpin of his capabilities would draw more attention than necessary, and he knew he was already in the neck of it all. He watched further, and in the background audio, Sibyll could hear all of Ruby's protests and denials about their assumed tryst—

His eyes widened in shock, looking between the scroll and Sylvia.

"And when you mean 'claimed'…"

"… _-eryone watchi-…Sibyll…stop…"_ The scroll continued to play bits and pieces of Ruby's plea as Sylvia made a circle with one hand, and picked out two fingers on the other.

"… _don't—"_

The young woman made very distinct and rough motions with both hands as the sounds of destruction and battle continue to play from the scroll. His speech was sputtered as he reached out to stop her, and end the video altogether. He looked around the bar hoping no one was watching, and relaxed when there were none.

" ** _No_** ," he declared very adamantly. "Whichever notion encouraged such thought is _**ridiculously absurd**_ , and I will not have you believe such foolish and erroneous rumors as well."

He bristled against the thought, taking up his glass and draining half of the drink before setting it down again. It wasn't proper form, but he needed something to wash away the foul taste in his mouth at the thought of such gossip. By the gods, Ruby was far younger than what he was comfortable with and to think others would assume such things between their blatant differences in age and maturity. He was thankful that the young miss was earnest and honest, but to even entertain the thought of them together? He could only feel concerned and surprised with the 'openness' of this new culture. Was it normal for girls her age to fawn over older men with such desire? Sibyll could recall a few "mahn-gahs" Blake filtered out from Sun's others suggestions where the theme was familiar; an older man and a young maiden. But it must purely be fiction, no? Even those of her team or others of similar ages were preposterous, yet even _they_ were aware of what implications could arise from a misunderstanding. He wasn't a philanderer of young women, and he never saw any of the young misses in the manner he was accused of.

"You're actually cute when you get defensive," she assessed. "That's the most expressive you've been all night."

He shook off her "praise" as she took another drink.

"Joking aside," she placed her glass down carefully, "why bring up your 'reputation' when you're talking about them?"

"Because that is what it truly comes down to, is it not?" he countered.

Sibyll leans back into the booth, easing himself into a subject he had more difficulty discussing than handling. It was easy to claim his stance on certain matters of the Hunt and enact on them, but reflection was challenging in having to face them afterward. He would have to remember the faces of the fallen, both beast and man, that were either victims or perpetrators in _his_ line of work. He wished it was as simply as the Hunters of this world with having a clearly distinct quarry.

"So what does it come down to?"

He gave a sympathetic chuckle.

"I am simply different than what they believed me to be."

"Different… how?"

"Those like Team RWBY hunt down Grimm, whereas I…" His voice trailed off.

"Oh."

The booth becomes quiet as the information begins to sink in, and Sibyll felt himself fidget within his own thoughts. He wasn't sure how she would react to his disclosing to that part of his past, and he assumed it wouldn't be taken lightly. Sylvia was simply watching him, and her thoughtful expression didn't betray any particular judgment she may have had. Her form was relaxed, not tense with the knowledge of his large target base, but she had remained quiet in the passing minutes. He was too nervous to reach out for his drink, hoping to avoid any movement that may startle or frighten her.

Perhaps revealing that part of himself and his acceptance to this date was a mistake. In spite of her flirtations and relentless teasing, Sylvia is still a woman of _this_ world. If all Huntsmen and Huntresses were tasked with only hunting Grimm and _subduing_ people, then he was a stark contrast to whole foundation. Remnant and its kingdoms were still coming off of a war in decades past, and what he had picked up in Beacon's classes emphasized a need for mercy if anything else. The death of another person should only be as a last resort, but he was so accustomed to it that measures of "last resort" were of a different severity. He had to treat everything like a final effort, and in a sense it was. Any minor slip up could result in another Addersfield incident, and he could only contain the spread so much if it came to it.

"You've killed people before."

"I have."

She still remained unreadable as the silence continued. He knew this was a tasteless subject, and shouldn't speak further on it. With a sigh, Sibyll suggested that they —

"And?"

He looked to her confused as she startled his thoughts.

"That… would usually frighten most people upon discovery."

"As horribly lame as it sounds, would it help if I said I wasn't _'most people'_?"

Sylvia would have flinched at how quickly his disposition changed from fear and worry to disbelief.

"Your indifference is worrying."

"It's **not** that I'm indifferent or uncaring, even if I come off as some callous flirt to other people. Look," she leans forward on the table, "anyone that ever became a Huntsman or Huntress killed someone at some point. Maybe it was an accident, maybe they meant it. It's bound to happen and that's that."

"This is not something that should be taken lightly."

"And I'm not," she replied. "But people die all the time and everyone moves on. You're probably over thinking it."

Sylvia reached her glass before a hand slammed down upon it. She found that the once nervous and reluctant man she had teased and dragged around _felt_ entirely different from a moment ago. There was no mirth or grief from his hardened expression, and his narrowed eyes glared at her like small embers of a kindling flame. His shoulders were stiff, his breathing barely restrained through firmly set jaws. It was as if he was a steel trap, prepared to lash out at even the slightest of touches. While he reacted defensively at her words, he appeared to be ready for a fight; cornered in a way as if he were ready to strike first. The fingers around the rim of the glass clinched tightly, threatening to shatter it before her.

"And what would you know?" Sibyll challenged. "You have no notion on the number of lives I was forced to take in order to preserve the peace, to push back those creatures at the cost of too many lives."

He leans equally forward, leaving very little space between them.

"There were those I knew who lost their lives doing the same thing, and sacrificing themselves and their sanity with a scant hope of changing anything. Every confrontation, beast or man, was a risk and we continued to die every night because some still believed in a better dawn. But I am not alone with the grief we are force to bear in every waking moment. The faces of every man, woman, and child I was responsible for still remain even if people think of me no better than the creatures I hunt."

He released her hand roughly, and finished the rest his own drink.

That's how it was.

That's how it's _always_ been since his first night as a Hunter.

No matter how much or how little it changed, this would always be the result. That was how they, and everyone else in Remnant, would view him: a cold hearted monster. He could appease them all, give them what they demanded as best they could, but it would never be enough. **He** would have to change at their discretion, at their ignorance no matter how much he reasoned and pleaded with. The truth simply remained; people will and would continue to die at his hands, even if he tried otherwise. Whatever was causing the changes in the White Fang to bear similar changes of the Scourge could potentially cause an epidemic. He would have to kill them without hesitation, but of course those like Ruby or Ozpin would recoil at the thought.

Sibyll never **wanted** to kill anyone.

Even when he couldn't recall the reason he agreed to the Contract, he never wanted to _**people**_. He believed that "beasts" were his only concerns until Gehrman and another told him otherwise. Here was a chance where he could save the most people by sacrificing the already damned, those beyond his help. By the gods, he was trying to help them, _save them_ , as Gehrman instructed him to with his last words.

" _ **It never changes, does it**_ **?** " he thought/she answered.

Surprised to hear his own words aloud, Sibyll found her trembling. Her hands were barely able to keep themselves still as she interlocked them around her glass. Her breath seemed strained, forced to hold back, and her faced was red with a tense, troubled expression. He saw her eyes shine, brimming with what he believed were tears, but saw how they refused to fall even. In spite of it, she forced herself to smile as best she could as she looked up to meet his gaze.

"It's supposed to get better right? But it's all ' _you did the best you_ _could_ '; _'_ t _ime heals all wounds_ '; and my personal favorite, ' _it's not your fault._ ' That's what everyone tells you, but that's a load of shit right there..."

She shook her head.

"How is it **not** my fault? It's not like I _**meant**_ to kill someone else on purpose. He just came out of nowhere and I—"

Her hand quickly runs through her dark hair, as if to brush away the doubt, the pain of remembering away. Following his example, she grabs her drink and drains it empty before slamming it down. Her breathing hitches slightly, sharp inhales followed with slow exhales. To Sibyll, she looked tortured at her own admittance, and he placed her there. It made his stomach turn knowing that he had been equally callous in treating the subject, not know the other part of the woman he was with. He had forgotten that she too was an aspiring Huntress, having her own fair scrapes and close calls with the creatures of Grimm, and at some point a human casualty. By questioning her in his own defense, he had belittled her without truly knowing more about her.

"I apologize... In my anger, I was careless in how I treated you..."

"It's fine. I pushed you without really thinking about what I said. I'm at fault too."

They watched each other, careful in not wanting to tread heartless onto the other's scars and wounds.

"How?" It was a safe question, one that provided an out should she feel uncomfortable to share, or a chance to talk about it.

"Routine search and destroy," she answered slowly. "One of the settlements in Vacuo had an increased amount of Tremors at their borders and not many of them made it. They needed additional support and we were supposed to go in and take the place back. Dealing with glorified sand worms in a desert though, just makes everything _that_ much worse."

She paused, and he waited.

"When we got there, it was pretty much clear the place was wrecked. Homes and buildings destroyed, clear signs of a struggle, but not a single body left behind. That's how they get you: right from under you where the very soil and sand is what kills you first before they do. We were told that the place was empty, as the residents were either dead or evacuated. So you can see why we were on edge and focused on ourselves before anything else."

She balls one hand into a fist.

"We split into two teams: me and Merc, Em(ber) and Em(erald)." She gives a short, choked laugh. "They would search the perimeter while we went toward the center. If we found them, we'd call it in and take them on as group."

Her eyes begin to glaze over, as if she were still there.

"Merc and I did a clean sweep inside the remains of the house when it happened. He was checking the second floor, me on the first when I fell through into the basement. Wood flooring had lost is stability in the attack and I just had to step on the wrong place."

Her fist clenches tighter.

"There I was, sprawled out on my back and trying to get my bearings when something grabs me."

Sylvia closes her eyes.

"That's how we're taught to know these things ambush us. They never really breach the surface if they have to, but they've got these arm-like tongues that just... latch onto you, you know? If I wasn't so wound up and panicked, I would have remembered that their tongues didn't have _two arms_ or were smaller than the size of a **kid**."

She sighs, her shoulders beginning to relax as she looks back at Sibyll once more.

"By the time Merc found me, him was already dead. I got him right in the head with my own weapon like we were taught to deal with Tremor tongues. He must have been down there for so long with how malnourished he looked, but _**he**_ _ **tried**_ _**to help me up**_."

Her voice wavers, fringing on the last bit of restraint and control she had left.

"Damn worms were already long gone, and we called it in. Vacuo sent in the relief corps to help the people rebuild, but we had to return the kid's body to his father. And no matter how much I apologized, no matter how much Ember tried to defend me... The man could only look at me with so much... hate and anger. It was an _**accident**_ , but to that father I was his **son's killer**."

Sylvia wipes away at her eyes, her make up beginning to smudge in an effort to stifle her tears.

"It took me a while to get over it, and my guilt was starting to ruining our team's dynamic. So I forced myself to wise up and push it all aside. If everyone's bound to die and I can't save them all, then so be it. I can't apologize for what I am and what's out of my control. I hunt Grimm, and whatever happens, happens. Them's the dice, you know?"

She reaches out to place a careful hand over his, stopping herself when he instinctively flinched, but followed through when he allowed her presence there.

"That's what I mean when I say you're over thinking it. If Ruby and her team and those inside the walls aren't going to accept the things **you _had_ to do** then let that be. You did what you did to defend _yourself_ or defend _someone else_ , nothing more. And if you're as guilty about it as I am, then I don't think you enjoyed it either..."

A part of him agreed with her, while the distasteful lurch in his stomach spun. There were still those moments he had tasted the pleasure of the Hunt, but it was always under the influence of the memories, Cocktails, or Blood Pellets. It couldn't be his true feelings, but the doubt remained.

"You and I can't change the past or who we are," she reminded him. "But we're not the monsters they make us out to be, even if you and I seem to joke about it."

He couldn't help but marvel at her, and this strange sense of relief he was feeling in her company. Whatever tension was at his core disappeared, and his breathing felt light in the longest while.

She could be a crude and imposing woman whose sense of boundaries and how to respect them are nonexistent.

She was demanding, flirtatious, and otherwise "painful" in how she conveyed certain feelings.

She's embarrassed him more than what he believed could be socially tolerable, and continued to place him in awkward and uncomfortable positions whenever her presence arises.

Yet he felt a kindred comfort with her, as if everything preceding her was a means of broaching things she couldn't otherwise approach. It reminded him of someone else he worked with during his first few Hunts...

"Come here." He motioned for her to lean forward, and she reluctantly did so. His thumb brushed over parts of her ruined makeup she missed, careful to properly and gently erase away the marks.

"That took me a while to do," she answered as she worked. "Guess I don't look so pretty now, huh?"

"You are fine as you are, with or without the rouge."

And she was. When a fair portion had been cleaned away, she still looked as charming as she was in their initial meeting those days ago. Her taste in attire and natural disposition were things he had yet to be accustomed to, but they weren't bad qualities.

"Harris," he called out. "Two more pints please."

The bartender nods and begins the preparations behind the bar.

"Our drinks have run dry."

"So they have."

They waited as Harris came around, two more glasses of beer placed before them. They thanked the man as he returned behind the counter, and Sibyll raised his drink to her.

"To us," he toasted.

"And the things we can't change," she finished.

 _Clink_

* * *

"Of course we would miss the last flight back to the academy," he muttered to himself.

Sibyll and Sylvia stood before the now closed heliport of all dust planes in and out of Vale. They had spent quite a time sharing _many_ drinks, round after round of beers while they commiserated in each other's misfortune. It wasn't a bad experience given how much they imbibed, but there was a certain air of openness they didn't quite have before. All of her teasing and prodding didn't seem as intrusive as it once was, and she was willing or able to take on his pointed comments or jests. Their exchange felt natural, and after the second and third round, they challenged each other in feats of constitution and determination. They took turns going back and fourth to see if they could drain their glass in go, or to drink whenever they shared something the other had never done.

He inwardly sighs, knowing things turned for the "worst" when her questions returned to their uncomfortably intrusive nature.

* * *

 _"You know…" she began._

 _"Hmm?"_

 _"You haven't talked about that woman you mentioned when we first met. The one I reminded you ooh~ soo~ dearly about."_

 _Sibyll finished another take of his drink, setting the glass down as he tried to recall the event she claimed. He remembered the pick pocket incident with Miss Sustrai, and how her teammates came to handle the situation. He also remembered the first time they were introduced to each other and the otherwise intimidating impression she left him with. Of course, he did mention another woman that she did remind him of._

 _Like him, the woman was a Hunter, and one the few who still had their senses about them. She had been the only hunter he had worked with those first few Hunts, showing him the proper methods to tracking down their prey and removed his reservations about the afflicted. She was pragmatic, if a bit too detached for his initial liking, but they worked well together. On better nights, her sarcasm was as close to humor as it could become; following a now familiar and forward advance if not to make light of their dire situations. To Sibyll, she was more of a Hunter than a woman, and she was quick to remind and reprimand him of the latter._

 _Where he was nimble, dexterous, and admittedly weaker of the two, she was a woman whose strength and vitality rivaled even the strongest of beasts. There were many times the two of them were caught by surprise ambushes, prey clever enough to lie in wait, but the pulpy remains were a testament of her fortitude. With her single mindedness, the answer to every problematic encounter they faced was the blunt end of her Kirkhammer. She was a Hunter who would brave a fatal blow if it meant delivering her own, and it often left them with more scrapes than he liked. Even with the misfires from her gun, or the occasional accidents of a poorly aimed knife or cocktail, they would come out bloodier than necessary yet still standing._

 _Were it not for her help though, he wouldn't have survived his first few encounters with the larger beasts. Since then, it became a part of their repertoire to separate and reunite whenever their work dictated it; swapping stories or information from their own hunts. She was the closest thing to a friend he had, and it made him wonder how she fared since his arrival in Vale. Had the Hunters in Yharnam found their answer to the scourge? Was she alive at least? Questions he knew he wouldn't have the answers even if he hoped for it._

 _"It has been some time since I have last seen her," he answered. "She is a respectable Hunter and a good companion when it comes to work. What of her? Surely I am still 'forbidden' from speaking about other women."_

 _"I'll let this one slide," she acquiesced. "Besides, I'm curious about this mysterious 'companion' of yours. What is she like?_

 _"Well, she is certainly strong."_

 _"And~?"_

 _"And she is also tall?"_

 _Sylvia glares at him across the table, her heeled boot tracing along his calf as a reminder._

 _"Come on! There's more to it than that! What is it about her that really makes her special?"_

 _There were many things about the woman which made her more than special. She was remarkable in that she carried a will like no other Sibyll had ever seen. The few other Hunters he had worked with or seen simply disappeared after a time, never to be seen again. In short, he knew that they were dispensable in this long fight against the Scourge. For as many of them were contracted, there would be just as much afflicted or beasts that would need slaying. It was the reason so many gave in to futility, to the surmounting madness dwelling within each of them._

 _Not **her** though._

 _Stubborn and defiant she was, even if he found her belief in a 'final hunt' to end all Hunts to be impossible. He would scoff, she would reprimand him, and they would sit by a fireside in their repeated exchange._

 _"Her spirit is remarkable," he spoke. "Unlike any I have seen, considering the sort of work we have to dirty our hands with."_

 _"Is she?" A small tone of doubt._

 _"Yes. She was hopeful in her own way, and was capable of feats beyond normal circumstances that put even my own skills to shame."_

 _"And what is she to **you**?" she specified._

 _"My friend," he answered honestly. Sibyll looks to the woman across from the table, surprising even himself to admit it out loud to someone one else. "She does not mince words, but she also does not admonish me either. She reminded us that we are the same, and her kindness is more than absolving me of my guilt, but to accompany me within it when no one else can."_

 _He focused on the glass in his hand, swirling the amber liquids inside._

 _"She sounds special…"_

 _"She was." He paused. "Is. She is."_

 _It was still enough time for her to catch on to the small shift._

 _"Did she…?"_

 _Sibyll shook his head even when he wasn't so sure himself._

 _"She was doing well when our paths last crossed. I only worry that I have not seen her since."_

 _"Maybe you could call her up? Let her know you're worried about her or something."_

 _He chuckles, knowing that is something he can't do even if he could. There was little hope for what his Messengers could do, knowing that he had already tested the extent of their boundaries. Like him, a good number of them were stuck and incapable of reaching through the abyss back to Yharnam. Whatever messages he sent were returned unanswered. Sylvia raises an eyebrow curiously as he waves her concern away._

 _"I am afraid she is 'off the grid' as you might say. Regardless of our lack of communication, I have great faith in her fortitude and that she will continue to persist as always."_

 _"I guess that's just how it is."_

 _"I would believe so."_

 _Another comfortable silence sets in as Sibyll thoughts begin to drift into recollection. Recounting their various Hunts and victories, he forgets for a moment the current company that is beginning to switch sides; slipping out of her side of the booth to sit beside him. A slender arm snakes around his waist, snapping him out of his brief reverie as she looks up to him._

 _"Was there anything special between you two?"_

 _"Special?"_

 _Sylvia gave him another look, but it wasn't necessary as Sibyll already gathered her intent. Why else would she ask about the woman, were she not interested in his previous relationships? She had been forward to describe her previous relationships in detail to get a reaction out of him, and he believed the tables are slowly turning against him. As for her curiosity, there was… something 'special' between them he supposed. She was the only Hunter he kept an eye or ear out for in case their paths would cross again. Sibyll trusted her even though the title she earned kept most at bay._

 _And there was certainly one night that made him consider things he didn't believe important then…_

 _"We had names for each other if that counts."_

 _"Ooh~! Pet names huh? What'd she call you?"_

 _"Siebold."_

 _She deadpans over the simplistic and boring answer, looking at him while waiting for the punch line. By his laughter over her reaction, it had already been delivered._

 _"I know how it sounds, but it is true. It seems I reminded her of someone else of that name, and she would use it often to irk me. Apparently, my name bears very little masculinity."_

 _Leave it to that woman to take her hits at him whenever she could, knowing that he wouldn't be one to be pushed over._

 _"And what would you call her?"_

 _"She wanted me to call her Cass, but I preferred calling her Cassandra. A fair play of vexing the other I believe."_

 _Hunter Cassandra. He smiled at the memory of her angry expression, how easily it set into that seriousness that easily displayed her displeasure._

 _"That's hardly cute at all," Sylvia judged._

 _"Oh? What name, pray tell, would **you** have given **me**?"_

 _She gave it some thought, rubbing her chin for emphasis before snapping her fingers at a solution._

 _"Sibs!"_

 _Sibyll looked at her with a crestfallen and disbelieving look as if he heard another one of Yang's terrible puns._

 _"You know? Because," she scoots closer to him, nuzzling her face at his neck, "I've got 'dibs on Sibs'?"_

 _He groans heavily as he buries his face into his hands, the woman beside him huffing in protest._

 _"Well, I'm not gonna call you 'Bill.' I already know one of them, and calling you my father's name is something too weird even for my taste."_

 _"Luckily enough, I feel ill suited to that name as well."_

 _He lifts his face to see her still watching him intently, waiting._

 _"So~, what about me? Anything in particular come to mind?"_

 _There weren't many variations he could use, and he knew that she was waiting for an acceptable answer._

 _"Sylv?"_

 _"Hmm… Nah."_

 _"Via?"_

 _"Come on, you can do better than that!"_

 _She moved, drawing her legs up so she could face him directly, knees tucked under her and effectively blocking his escape. Even now, she pouted as she waited for him and she looked… vulnerable to him. It was a strange thought for him to consider, yet everything about her posture told him otherwise. Even the way she tilted her neck left her fatally exposed, where he could just lean in and…_

 _" **Sylvi.** "_

 _Her shoulders hitch up as the chill travels down her back. It had taken her by surprise when Sibyll leans in without warning, focused solely on her as she drifted past her vision. She could feel his breath on her neck, warm with each exhale, and then he **growled** her name. Each syllable thrummed within her chest, and it was certainly the boldest he had been with her all night. She inwardly smiles at the discovery; playing with the ideas she could draw him into. She moves closer, prodding to see how far he would go before he pulled away; shaking his head._

 _"I am not very good at this."_

 _Whether he meant about the flirting or the naming, she didn't care._

 _"I like it," she promised. "Sibs and Sylvi doesn't sound bad at all."_

 _He sighs._

 _"Is it still possible to dissuade you from calling me that?"_

 _"Depends on how much we're drinking tonight."_

 _" **Harris!** "_

* * *

At the _tenth round,_ Harris declared "last call" for the evening and they toasted their last drink to whatever they felt in that moment. They settled their (Sibyll's tab), wished Harris good night, and began their trek back towards Beacon or so they hoped. She leaned on him more; the stupor induced swaying demanded his support to which he obliged. It was a slow journey to the heliport and they were rewarded with a vacant lot in the dead of night.

"We can alwaysss stay in Vaaale~." Her words were slightly slurred as she looked up to him.

"With the tournament, I do not believe we will find much vacancy here." He sighs. "Unless you happen to also have a place for us to stay in the city, I believe we are stranded for the night."

Sylvia taps her lips in thought, before snapping her hands quickly to capture whatever listless idea came to mind.

"Come on, I think I have a way back."

She pulled for him to follow back into the city, taking the less populated and darker side streets between buildings. Sibyll looked around cautiously, hoping they wouldn't find any additional trouble on their trek home as she pulled him into an alleyway.

"You hafta promise not to tell anyone," she warned as best she could. "Ember duzzin' like it when our semblances get known. Means that someone could have a 'tack-it-cal vantage' against us in the tournament."

"On my name."

"Good, now gimme a sec."

Her hands touched the brick wall, carefully tracing her fingers against the cement layering in search of something. She hummed to herself as quietly a slight drunk woman could, until her eyes lit up and pressed hard against the surface. There was a pool of purple energy that slowly expanded into a vertically, rectangular shape. Sibyll's eye widened in surprise as it began to take the form of a door; ornate with intricate designs of metal and glass, the knob a crystal with iron ivy wrapping around it.

"Dunno the terms they have for my semblance, but I call it a ' _dimension door_ '." She waves her hands in the air as sloppily an impression of jazz hands as she could. She then took his hand and began to turn the handle of the door.

"No matter what, don't let go," she warned him.

It was serious, and Sibyll felt himself hesitating slightly at her touch.

"What would happen if we separated?"

"Nothing bad really."

He breathes a sigh of relief.

"You're only going to get torn between two opens spaces of reality, and half of you makes it to the other side."

Sylvia beams up at him as a familiar sense of fear begins to take place.

"Maybe there is another—"

"Here we go!"

She opens the doors, pulling along Sibyll and all of his resistance inside with her. He feels a strange lurch throughout his entire body as he passes the thresh hold, pulled in every single direction, and he's falling once more. Refusing to let go of her hand, he could barely see anything beyond the bright colored lights that envelope them both. Yet he was familiar with sensation of falling through an abyss like space, as if they here tumbling in weightlessness. Sibyll was about to speak before his feet touched upon solid ground, and he could hear the door behind them crackle with energy before disappearing.

"Damn," he heard her swear under her breath. "Overshot it."

They were standing in a darkened forest where the treetops rustling in the evening breeze. Allowing for his eyes to adjust, he found that terrain was familiar with how earthy the scents around them were. He took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to find anything lingering about. They were alone for now, but they would be pushing their luck if they stayed any longer.

"I'm really sorry about all this. It usually works when I'm not as buzzed as I am, but I didn't think I'd take us to the Emerald Forest."

Sibyll listened carefully, and he could just barely make out the sounds of a rushing water in the distance.

"It will be fine," he assured. "I know where we can spend the night out of danger."

Taking her hand into his, Sibyll guided them through the forest he had "declared" his own to the occupying Grimm. They were not confronted or stalked as they traversed through the trees he became accustomed to knowing, but remained alert. Several minutes passed as they walked until they broke through the tree line into the space where his Workshop sat. It looked ominous in its silent vigil without the glow lights of a fire. He could even feel Sylvia's hesitation, her hand gripping his tightly as they approached.

"I just wanna make sure," she began. "You're not _really~_ a murderer out in the woods are you? Everything was going fine tonight, but I don't want to discover what's left of the 'other' dates you bring home."

He paused, standing in silence with his back to her...

...and he slowly turns.

"Fortunately for you, you are ' _the first date_ _'_ I have brought here."

Sibyll smiles, and for a moment Sylvia falters. Narrowing her eyes into a steely gaze, she slaps him across the arm and pushes him forward.

"You think you're so funny huh?"

"The most skilled Hunter in humor you will ever meet."

He guides her through the wrought iron gate and toward the door of the building itself. She stands by quietly as he searches for his key, brought to him promptly by his Messenger, and unlocks the space to them. They walk inside, and while Sylvia closes the door behind them, Sibyll moves unhindered in the darkness; placing a few logs into the fireplace and kindling a small flame that would build on its own. He began to set about lighting lanterns, revealing the interior bit by bit until there was sufficient enough light for her to see. He removed his coat, hanging on its usual hook and offered the same gesture to small woman. Sylvia nods, having him help shrug off her coat, and she begins to wander about the open space, studying all the details and furniture of his home.

"It's pretty cozy," she spoke aloud. "I like it."

"I would not want to the blood to ruin the upholstery or leave any unwanted marks. Too much effort to clean, no?"

Sylvia's back stiffens in reflex as she hears him behind her locking the door loudly. She turns around and to see him leaning against the entrance, arms folded against his chest, and in the low lighting of the room he looked dangerous. Shadows obscured him, but the flickering light glinted off of his eyes in that darkness, watching her closely. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw that there were windows, but they too were locked with the shutters drawn close. In a sense, she was trapped here with him.

"Sibyll..."

"I know, I know. The jest ends here, I promise." He steps forward into the light, apologetically regarding her.

She stuck her tongue out at him, and began to explore the workshop a little more. There was a rustic look about it in terms of what she found, occasionally reaching out to feel the polished wood or trace the spines of shelved books. She noticed very few dust powered appliances, and noted how the few that _were_ present were meant to preserve perishables or provide additional heating/cooling of the room. Sylvia picked up a few childish drawings of Sibyll and the girl, frowning at the memory of the performance before setting it down. She had more or less explored the main room until her eye caught the alcove tucked away at the back. Something was set back there, and upon closer inspection found it to be humanoid in shape. It was a woman, or what looked to be a woman dressed in entirely Gothic-like attire. The doll's porcelain face was beautiful, save for the bandage across one part of her face. She reached out to lift the cloth before a firm hand stopped her.

"I would prefer if you leave her be. She is fragile, and the only one of her kind."

Without releasing her, Sibyll pulled her away from the doll.

"And she's _yours_ right?"

"...in a matter of speaking..."

Sylvia found his expression marring slightly, reflecting the complicated and private thoughts in his mind.

"You know, I was going to say that doll is too big for a kid, but if you're into that sort of stuff..."

He sighs.

"Everyone has their peculiarities, as I am sure you have your own as well."

Genuine surprise plays upon her face, and Sibyll was unsure as to why such knowledge would garner that result. He doubted that Sylvia or anyone else he knew were perfect, and they were surely unique in their own ways. They had their own talents and preferences, but is it that surprising for him to have the Doll at his Workshop? Granted, she was more important in the Dream where her assistance is provided, but in the waking world she still provided comfort. Even in her innate state, Sibyll found comfort in the silence those evenings after he put Chisa to bed. There were times even Ruby and her team looked concerned at him and the Doll, and he did hear the few murmured questions about it. He was thankful that Blake placated them with ambiguous answers, but the rest of her team looked at him strangely since. So why would she be surprised of him having a "doll" here as well? What other uses or intentions could a doll provide?

Instead of pursuing the thought further, he nods over to the bedroom door.

"You may use my bed for the night. It may not be as comfortable as your temporary lodging as the academy, but it is the best I can provide."

"You're not turning in for the evening?"

He shook his head.

"There are a few things I have to prepare before tomorrow, and I would not want to keep you from sleep. Besides, it is improper to share a room with a young woman I am just beginning to know."

Sibyll diverts his attention away from her, knowing that she was beginning to don her mischievous nature once more. He expected her to enact on another of her provocative suggestions until she made her way toward his bedroom.

"Alright then," she answered a bit too willingly. "Don't stay up so late, or you're going to regret it in the morning."

"I will keep that in mind. Good night."

"Night."

Sylvia opens the door to his room, but stops herself short.

"And do you mind if I borrow some of your clothes? It's not comfortable to sleep with what I have, you know?" She tilts her head to one side, almost childlike in the way she requested it of him.

"Make yourself at home. If you need anything else, I will be sure to provide it as best as I can."

"I'll hold you to it." She disappears into the room and the door closes behind her. He still couldn't quite trust that she would remain as docile as her exit, but Sibyll hoped that she would take the rest of the night to rest.

Sitting in his armchair by the fireside, he began to remove his shoes; putting the neatly aside as he flexed the sore joints in his sole. He removed the leather belt around his waist, and unbuttoned his shirt a bit more for his skin to breathe. He stands, stretches, working away at the joints that had tightened as he moved to his workshop table. He glanced at the compiled notes, arranging them in relevance, reviewing what he could. He would have to prepare his bag to carry as much as he could for his venture to meet with Adam, and to bring along even those which he preferred to keep in storage. Thoughts began to wander to the Qrow's findings on the White Fang base, and he was beginning to worry about what he may find in the lower depths of that place. Such places where designed specifically to keep people _out_ , or something _in_ _,_ with no means of entrance or exit for the other. He had braved such places before, but it was with the comfort in knowing what lies ahead than to go blindly into a descending darkness.

The White Ribbon Messenger appeared, signaling him that Chisa and her current company were safe and asleep in the dormitory. He had been careful this time around, making sure that his Messengers would be his alert should anything happen again. It had been some time since the incident over her brush with danger, but a part of himself couldn't forgive his negligence. He hoped to finish his business with Adam quickly to ensure that Chisa and those in Vale would be safe. What would need to be done had yet to be established...

The door to the bedroom opens behind him.

"I forgot something actually," he heard her speak.

"Hmm? Is that... so..."

Sylvia leaned against the open doorway dressed only in one of his shirts, buttons done haphazardly halfway and revealing more than he anticipated. It hung largely on her frame, and there were times he was sure that the fabric would slip off her small shoulders, exposing what she assume would be her bare body. She approached him slowly, arms behind her back, moving step by step deliberately. She never broke eye contact with him as she moved, and Sibyll found himself rooted into the spot. Oh he had teased her before, but not he was equally trapped within the workshop with her as she was with him.

"I believe I've earned something for my troubles Mister Sibyll," she reminded him. "Something I was too 'voracious' in wanting, and I 'had to work for it'? Sound familiar?"

"I believe I am... having difficulty recalling such a thing."

"Really~?"

She sauntered up to him, closing any distance between them, and he could feel the familiar curves of her body pressing upon him.

"After everything we shared tonight, I didn't think I'd be _that_ forgettable. Hurts a girl's confidence don't you know?"

He quickly stopped the hands that were beginning to reach up to his face.

"Your thoughts are influenced by the drinks. Please, return to bed and rest."

"I'm not as bad as you think I am Sibyll."

"You clearly look—"

She removed her hands from his grasp, and waved one over her face. Purple energies covered her form and the redness and glee that comes with soporifics were gone; her eyes seemed sharper, the slur of her speech gone, she no longer swayed as she stood, and he couldn't smell the "would be strong" alcohol off of her breath.

"Fine, right?" She gave him a sheepishly, guilty grin. "The other thing about my semblance is that I can also 'transport' other things too. Here, I'll show— ah crap!"

Sylvia had reached behind him for one of his inkwells, but her fingers fumbled with the small glass container. Black liquid threatened to stain his many notes that were both parts recent and dated compilations of his previous Hunts. He moved to stop the spill as best as he could, yet as soon as his hands reached the table the ink was gone. The inkwell rested in her hand where its contents remained unspoiled. She placed it carefully back on his desk and slipped her hands back into his.

"Eh heh, mulligans right?"

Sibyll wasn't sure if he was surprised or suspicious with her given Semblance. It was impressive for sure, but he was confident that he was more aware than to miss something unusual. The bodies of Hunters didn't react "properly" to the alcohol in spirits, and that was widely known when most "thirsted" for Pungent Cocktails instead. To him, it was as if he consumed something equivalent to "hardy water", where the taste was certainly there but that was all that remained.

"How?"

"Whenever we drank at the same time, I sort've just sent some from my glass into yours? And when it came to taking turns drinking, I just slip it into your glass when you're distracted."

He thought back to the bar, trying to recall anything specific that would have given her way. There were so many drinks between them that nothing stood out to him. The only thing he would deem strange was how quickly her glass… seemed to be finished than his… And that his glass always seemed to lag behind…

"Why?"

"Because I was actually pissed at you?"

He cocks an eyebrow at the statement as she shakes her head.

"Sorry, that came out wrong. What I mean is, I get a bit competitive when it comes to drinking," Sylvia confesses. "Cinder takes us out for a drink after a tough mission every now and then, and while she never joins in, I can usually drink Em and Merc right under the table; she's a lightweight and he actually puts of a fair fight. But they never really stand a chance because I... usually send them my drinks too? Even when I think I'm about to lose, I just send my buzz over to them. So when you and I finished up our fourth round, I guessed something was up."

A slight twinge of worry formed briefly in his thoughts as she sighs in defeat.

"Can't believe you beat me..." she murmured.

"I suppose I am just naturally resilient?" It was the best he could do in consoling her without revealing too much, playing into the subtle nuances of half-truths. Sylvia chuckles, leaning back into him. Resting her head against his chest, she could feel steady heartbeats that quickened slightly at her forward affections.

"It's fine," she spoke. "Not about the drinking, but the whole date and everything. I know how I can be, and I've probably pushed you more than once tonight. Maybe you're just too nice to say no?"

She pulls away a safe distance, her hands nervously playing with the cuffs of his borrowed shirt.

"I'm just really forward with what I want, whether it's something that interests me or _someone_ I want to know. It's been nothing for a problem for you I'm sure, but I hope it doesn't ruin the better parts of tonight."

Hands folded behind her back like a child forbidden from touching something too important or fragile.

"I still enjoyed myself. Thank you, for humoring me as much as you did."

Sylvia turns; taking a few steps back toward the bedroom until his voices catches her.

"Why me?"

She pauses.

"Surely you could have chosen anyone from the other visiting academies," he explains, "or those at Beacon who may have caught your fancy. I do not believe someone like you would have trouble courting other people, so why _me_ specifically?"

He watches her still form, her long locks of black hair falling down her back.

"Because you're trying to prove that you're normal," she answers. "Everyone from the schools is there because they want to prove they're the best, that they're heroes in the making, and that _they'll_ be the ones to stop the Grimm for good. Not you…"

He could hear her chuckling to herself again.

"You're not out for glory or praise or a good cause. You've seen what a _**real**_ mission is like, and you just want to prove you're still a _person_ after all of that… That's why I'm interested in **you**."

The workshop fills with silence that isn't uncomfortable or uncertain, but of consideration. She said her piece, laid down her intentions, and waited for a response should any come. It would be up to him to answer her should he choose to, but she wouldn't feel anxious. Instead, she felt his presence come up behind her, hands on her shoulder as he gently turns her to face him. There was softness to his expression, intermingling with a timidity she had never seen of him. Sibyll stood close to her, but his hands acted delicately as if they were afraid of being rough.

"I promised you _one_. _Just_ one."

She nods, and he continues to study her. She was small and seemingly fragile, but it carried a certain charm to how it undermined her strength. There was resolve in her eyes tamed only by the restraint of their agreement, but oh how it burned in the lowlight. Sibyll could feel her determination, her willingness to play and challenge him, but the sense of honesty in her interest of him was still curious. If he was different to her in comparison with people normal to this world, then she was an entirely different woman than those he had crossed paths with.

She was adamant, but patient.

Conniving, yet clever.

She was intimidating in a way that was familiar to him.

"Are you going to admire me all night?" She joked. "I don't mind, but I won't be able to reach you up there."

"You could always strike me like before and have me bend over."

"Not this time," her voice half hushed. "I want you to come to me. I want to know and feel that you genuinely want this, and that you aren't forcing yourself."

She smiled as her hands reached up to place themselves over his. He refrained slightly, unsure if she truly wanted this… wanted him of all things. Her lips parted slightly, smooth and gentle, drawing him in as he leans into the kiss. Sylvia closes her eyes, tilting her head up to him as best as she should could to meet him half way, and she could feel the warmth of his reluctant affection. They were rough, but not uncomfortably so as the sensations tickled her senses. His inhaled sharply, startled when she pressed into the kiss further, molding hers against his playfully. They could still taste the alcohol from the early evening, and Sibyll tilted enough to explore the contours of her lips. A brief tension wrapped around his heart, a fear of his thoughts slipping into nothingness, willing himself back as her tongue prodded shyly against his bottom slip.

Sibyll pulled away as he felt his heart beat faster in a way that fear would often influence it. He averted his eyes out of embarrassment, feeling that unconscious heat of shame on his face in withdrawing first.

"Shall that suffice?" he asks.

Silence as verdant eyes were set on his in the firelight.

"No."

 ** _{Suggested ambient music for the shippers: "Blood and Guts - Guitar" / Passionate also works as well}_**

Sylvia pulls him back to her, hands gripping his collar tightly as her lips meet his once more. He could feel the warmth of her breath against his, slowly invigorating him as he feels his own body move against hers. Whatever thoughts of protests or rationality he had left seemed to fade from his conscience, focusing solely the sensations of her; the warmth of her skin, the scent of the night's air on her, and how her bated breath fueled whatever fire was growing throughout his entire body.

His hands went to her waist were the thin fabric of the shirt hinted at softer and warmer flesh, and he held her securely against him. She hummed against his lips, finding pleasure in the tightness of his hold as her teeth grazed and nipped at his lower lip. He responds in kind, leaning further into her frame, refusing to allow the smallest of distances between them. His height pushes the small woman back; each stumbled step was met with equal chase until her body touches the door frame to the bedroom. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled herself up to him, feeling his hands supporting her bottom as her legs wrapped around his waist. She could feel the strain of pressure on her back as Sibyll held her in place, the minor pain playing into her excitement as she licked his lips tentatively once more.

This time they parted, allowing her to explore whatever small space she was allow before it was met by an opposing force. They tasted each other, struggling and pushing for dominance in the kiss, and while Sibyll had the strength, he was won over by Sylvia experienced technique. It was impressive how she could articulate her tongue, and he unconsciously growled over the loss, prompting her to "gloat" further into the kiss. In retribution, he squeezed the supple bottom he was supporting firmly, eliciting a moan that broke their connection. What was once surprise turned into a glare that challenged his own, eyes narrowing at one another until she struck first.

He could feel her kiss upon his neck, teeth grazing against his skin in a pain that shocked yet urged him to satisfaction. His breathing became ragged as she bit and sucked, taking larger bites to increase his (or was it her?) mounting passion. His body leaned against her, slowly succumbing to the painful euphoria until he moved them towards the bedroom.

Something resonated within him, a feeling he had known for quite some time…

Something instinctual…

Something carnal…

Sibyll walks with practiced movement to his side of the room, and sets her down on his bed. She yelps out in surprise by the sudden impact of the mattress at her back and him over her. Hands rested on either side of her shoulders, she looks up to find him watching her in the darkness. With him still in her hold, Sylvia bucks her hips against his knowing that what little she wore would send the message across. She could make the narrowing of his eyes, the challenge acknowledged as he bent down.

She gasps as his lips fell upon her neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive flesh, and sending sparks throughout her body. Her back arches, squirming beneath him as he began to trail down to her collarbone, pulling away the already loose shirt. Her hands splay out through his hair, cradling him to keep the warmth he gave here there. Even as a hand snaked its way inside her shirt, tracing and feeling every curve and muscle, she hummed in delight before letting out a surprised yelp. She could feel him massaging and kneading her left breast, palm rubbing over the hardening nipple and adding to the overall sensation. His grip felt strong, yet gentle at the same time; careful to not hurt her in his ministrations. Sylvia let out a small whimper when he became too focused on one of her "girls", and Sibyll switched over to her other shoulder and his hand to the other breast.

He savored the warmth her body gave him with every touch, every feel, every kiss and taste and bite. She felt like a fireside on a cold night, wisps that that filled his body piece by piece and kept the chill away. He moved to kiss the corner of her lips, feeling her smile upon the contact, before kissing along her jaw line. Sibyll could feel her tense the closer he moved, and she became still when he stopped just above her ear.

"Something the matter?"

Sylvia shakes her head and nipped teasingly at his jaw.

"Just wondering if this is the _best_ you can do."

They knew what sort challenge she issued, and by his growling that reverberating her entire body, he wouldn't back down. She squeals when Sibyll takes a predatory bite of her earlobe. She's caught between wanting to laugh over the ticklish sensation, and moan as the sensations begin to travel down and pool at her core. Sibyll pulls back slightly to her protest, watching her expression turn from indignation to surprise as his hands began to work at the buttons of the shirt, prying them off quickly and pulling the apart. Even in the darkness, he could make out her naked form clearly; eyes drinking in the sight of her full breasts, her lithe stomach, and, to his surprise, her bare womanhood. He privately noted that she had trimmed her pubic hair into the shape of a heart, hearing her giggle when he stared longer than he should. When his eyes drifted back to hers, she wore that mischievous smirk he started to become familiar with. Now would be the time to politely return all those prodded gestures, the teasing, and the provocative advances he had to endure all night.

He watches her become startled as he ran a hand across her abdomen, satisfied with how the smooth and taut it felt. He could feel the hours of training, the battles she fought, as he moved down to her waist and toward her legs still hooked around his waist. Sylvia waited for him, anticipating his next move anxiously, but with curiosity. When he drifted to her inner thigh, she loosened her hold on him and parted her legs slightly. He could feel her quiver when his fingers traced the heart shape outline, taunting her with slow motions without breaking eye contact.

If she wished to see the "best" he could do, then it would be a disservice to give her anything less.

She bit back a moan when he ran his fingers over her wet folds, the heat of it tempting him to push forward to the truly hottest part of her womanly form. Sibyll dipped down, taking one of her breasts into his mouth and letting his tongue brush and circle around the deliciously cute and small teat. She presses into him, back arching into the sparks of pleasure that flashed within her. She rakes her fingers against his still clothed back, frustrated that she hadn't disrobed him first before he went on the offensive. His hands continued to move in small motions, massaging into the muscles around her vulva to hear her whine in indignation. She wanted him, and he was purposefully keeping her on edge like she had done to him. He would ensure that the diminutive woman would ride this out as slowly as he would allow, and bit at supple flesh of her breasts to remind her of his control. She bucked under the pain and pleasure she was receiving, and beneath it all she could feel that small fire begin to burn within her.

Sylvia ( **Neo** ) **never** allowed anyone to be a dominate force over her. **She** was the one in control, and no one could wrest that position away from her _**ever**_. Alias be damned, she wouldn't allow anyone, even Sibyll, to enjoy that role for long and she savored the ideas of retribution that would come. So why? Why did she tremble beneath his touch?

"Sibyll…" she weakly cried out as her body yearned for more than teasing.

She saw him look up from her breast, teeth grazing against it, and she found a different man entirely. This wasn't the man who kept everything agonizingly formal, who was so focused on being proper that he outright ignored her every attempt of flirtation. This wasn't the man who was generous and kind to a sickening fault, willing to focus his attention to everyone equally than her alone like the many before him. This wasn't the man whose trauma was delectable, giving her material to play and tamper with when Cinder's plan would finally fall through, and she would take him for herself.

Seeing through the darkness, she found eyes of something hungry and dangerous. His expression was hardened and focused as he removed himself from her chest, the bed shifting beneath his movement, as he loomed over her. The biting from earlier still stung, and she felt that he could easily tear into her if he wished. Sylvia (Neo) was at his mercy, feeling his breath upon her and his hand _still_ tormenting her soaking and aching quim. He was playing with her, a predator lazily toying with his prey when he could end it at his discretion.

"…please…"

His eyes narrowed at the words that were barely a whisper, observing her silently when he took her lips and slipped his fingers inside her. Her body rocked with the intrusion and the overwhelming sensation of the climax, squeezing her legs together to keep him from escaping. His tongue explored her mouth, brushing against hers regardless of her shuddering and breathlessness. With her arms firmly wrapped around his neck, he leaned into her embrace as he began to relieve her further; fingers pumping slowly inside her and thumbs rubbing over her clit. His body burned, crying out for a similar release from his clothed restraints, but he relished the fire from inside her; pushing deeper and deeper as her cries were muffled against his lips. The more he fingered her, the tighter her hold on him became knowing she was building up for another release. His hands moved faster, rougher, to bring her about to the desired effect as she pulled away to cry out his name.

She tried to squeeze her legs shut, yet the way he positioned his legs held them apart. She looked at him confused when he leant to down to her ear once more.

"Hold." The command surprised her even when her body writhed in protest, demanding its immediate release. He hadn't even slowed his pace, and he was expecting her hold in her orgasm? She was on the cups, the literal edge of losing her mind to pleasure, and he was demanding her build it further?

"Come on," the double entendre intended as she pushed her body against his. She searched for any contact against her skin that could bring her over, but he pulled away before anything substantial could be felt.

"Hold," he stated firmly. Sylvia restrained herself from tipping into the burst, adding to her fury and pleasure as she waited for each, painfully slow second that passed. She wasn't sure what would happen she if came now, whether Sibyll would be the sort of man who took his gratification in taking control like her. If she spoiled their fun, she assumed his vigor would be lost and the whole moment lost.

" _Damn him,"_ she cursed as she continued to contain her budding orgasm as best as she could. Her head swam with overwhelming focus between her legs, the hypersensitivity with each stroke of his fingers that sent lightning down her back. The young hunter kept her suffering, squirming, panting, and whining beneath him and she savored that taste of anger and lust with each stir inside her. Every circular spin of her clit rocked her harder than the last, pressing into it with each stroke. He moved just beneath her chin, his lips scantly inches away from her throat when growled her beloved nickname. The shiver she felt at the bar was her release as he pumped fast and hard, rocking their bed as she cried out in the throws of her second orgasm.

His fingers felt the full brunt of it, becoming soaked with her release as she slowly released him to catch her breath. He pulled his fingers out slowly, mentally savoring how she felt within before coming free of it. He brought the hand up for inspection, taking in the scent of her musk, and, with Sylvia watching through lidded eyes, licked them clean. He was methodically slow, paying deliberate attention to her every reaction. The taste both salty and sweet, and he savored it unabashedly before returning his attention to her fully.

Oh the ire was still there as she began to come down from her climax. She pushed him back forcefully so he was sitting back, clamoring to get up herself as she faced him. He was about to push back until her hands found his shirt and pulled it apart like he had once done. Buttons flew across the room, and he knew that he would have to mend it at a later time when he felt her hands explored his chest; stopping immediately upon feeling his numerous scars. Sibyll's passion faltered slightly when the woman had yet to move from where she touched him. He didn't think they would be problematic, but he hadn't considered how she felt about them. Perhaps she found them distasteful? It certainly explained her suddenly quiet nature…

The young hunter wouldn't blame her.

It was a reaction that everyone had, even Chisa, and he acknowledged that such scars were unsightly.

A sigh filters through his lips as his hands rested over hers.

"I—"

He tried to explain before her hands pushed his away, and started to slowly trace over each scar on his chest. Some connected with others while a few ran deeper, hinting at wounds that were once grievous in nature. She splayed out her hands, brushing them across as she climbed into his lap. It was a simple action, almost childish with how small she was, and so curiously invested in them as she leans in. Sibyll let out a small startled gasp when her lips tentatively kissed the marks, small pecks here and there while she peeled off his shirt entirely. The chill of the room ran over his back when she tossed it aside, and her kisses began hinting of brief tentative licks.

"How many of these were _**hers**_?"

He struggled to think through the haze his mind slipped into, pushing himself to understanding what she meant, and understanding who she meant specifically. Every scar her lips touched burned in a way that stirred him within, as if she was mending them with every kiss, every flick of the tongue that drew along the jagged edges or deeply pocked marks from old firearm injuries. He didn't know why the thought occurred, but it felt like absolution: trying to overwrite most of a past he couldn't forget. Her soft fingers continued to trace, and her ministrations seared the sensations in; pleasure instead in place of pain.

"A fair amount," he breathed out. A good portion of them were from the additional training he earned when Gehrman simply rested in the Hunter's Dream, and Cassandra was just as merciless as his mentor. She exploited his every weakness, subduing and sometimes crippling him to show where his weaknesses were. The rest were shown in a similar manner with a different "exercise" entirely.

"Hmm…" Sylvia contemplated his answer as she began to drag her nails across his flesh. She would fix that tonight, permitting he would be able (not willing) to endure the full extent of it all. He groaned under the contact, but she knew it wasn't pained. Pushing him back against the mattress, he "clawed" across his chest and stomach; feeling the resistance of his skin and scars with each drag. His muscles would tense and relax with each of **her** marks, busying herself with tasting and biting his chest. She imagined the sort of pain he felt, the agony, the burn, and it filled her with such vigor in wanting him to relive those moments. She would bite, suck, and claw at him and she felt his "enjoyment"; restrained deftly by the dress pants she would discard as well. He tried to raise himself up, but she placed her full weight on him to complete restrain him.

She grinned in the darkness, glad that his spirit was rekindled as she pulled off the last vestige of clothing and tossed it to the side. Sylvia crawls over him, quickly hooking her legs over his shoulders and under his arms, pinning his hands with her own as she bared her flower directly in his face. Her chest heaved in excitement when he struggled against her bodily restraint. The bastard thought she could dominate her huh? If he had a taste of her before, she'll give him the full course now.

She ground her lower lips against his mouth, egging him on to take the hint or endure constrictive pressure if he didn't. After a few more moments of struggling, Sylvia felt his surrender as he began to lick and lap away at her labia. Her head fell back, basking in her victory as the fleshy muscle explored her below; spreading her pussy and feeling that distinctive texture brush against her clit brought chills across her skin. Her hips gyrated, demanding more of his service even as he snarled a warning in his muffled condition; the vibrations only serving to please her. He licked and sucked away at the salty-sweetness, pushing his tongue inside her as continued to rub against him. He could feel his face melting beneath her heat, burying it deeper with each desperately hungry lick and push. The sheer weight and pressure threatened to smother him, and he tapped away at the hands restraining him. It went unnoticed as her breathing picked up once more, her movements becoming erratic, and further cutting off his air supply. Sylvia looked down at him like he had for her, yet she wanted him to suffocate for a small moment. It would be an incentive to bring about next climax and she pressed deeper into him; his tongue prodding quickly and deeply now.

Sylvia had been so focused on her reward that she didn't notice the quick shift in his movement. Sibyll had kicked his legs up and off the bed, reaching up and crossing them at an awkward angle around her neck, and pulled down. The surprising chokehold he had her in pulled her body across his, tension building in her back and abdomen as his tongue continued to explore her. She struggled, yet refused to give him ground in his desperate attempt for escape. Her attention was between the pleasure between her legs and the slow equally distressed need for air, her body growing sensitive as everything else numbed. She was close, but how close depended on her conscious she would be for it. As she was about to come, Sibyll's legs went slack as Sylvia tightened and convulsed around him. The lower half of his face became drenched as he tasted her third orgasm, holding his breath in hopes that she remembered he was beneath her.

Her body slowly rolled to the side of his bed, freeing him as he moved sit up on the edge. Looking over his shoulder, he found her watching him; slowly catching their breaths together, but she focused on him. It startled him how very close she brought him to unconsciousness, and he wasn't sure if that was enough to send him back to the lantern in the basement or the Dream itself. He would have a very difficult time explaining his disappearance during something that intimate. Were she Cassandra, he knew the woman would have a laugh and follow him back to the Dream to share it with Gehrman, forever a weight on his shoulder. Sylvia crawled up behind him, slipping her arms around his waist and resting her chin on his shoulder. He welcomed the warmth of her skin on his back, leaning into it without bowling her over.

"Wanna keep going?" she asked. "I've **definitely** had my fun, but you haven't had yours~."

A hand went from his waist toward his still restrained manhood, throbbing painfully in its confinement. He shuddered when her palm moved along his length, back and forth, as she breathed against his neck. Surely it was enough, and Sylvia was providing him a chance to withdraw. Even _he_ couldn't disregard the wanton longing for her body, the carnal desire within thirsting for the "more" she was willing to offer him. He could feel her heart beating in anticipation, a constant beat at his back like a drum; a steady tempo he could ravish and please them both too. The word hung at the tip of his tongue, lusciously on the verge of agreeing when he tilted his head to gaze upon her.

 _For a moment, it wasn't Sylvia who clung to his back as the curtain of black her fell away. In her place was a woman with sunburst hair, darker at the roots before glowing in a vibrant amber-orange, styled and cut much shorter than Ruby's; more tomboyish even. It functioned and kept well out of her way so those deep brown eyes remained sharp on even the quietest of nights. Her skin reminded him of sun dried oats, like a season's harvest of wheat and grain, and aside from the deep, elongated scar on her cheek, he could see where the freckles graced her skin. The arms and hands that hung around his neck were strong and rough, confirming the memory of the days she spent as a field hand before her arrival at Yharnam. She was taller than him by a few inches, something that would hold over him, but it didn't stop him pushing back with what he could._

 _He wasn't at his Workshop in the Emerald Forest, but by a small campfire atop a cliff overlooking a great body of water. Their trek through the Forbidden Woods was arduous enough to call for rest, clearing away the distorted wildlife and keeping them at bay with fire and incense. It was there they discussed their plans and hunting methods, catching up with one another, before she decided wind down with some small talk._

 _She shared more about her life before, recalling the various seasons when the questions turned to him. He couldn't remember his life before the contract then, but it was she who proposed a solution. It was a stupid plan that ribbed at the tainted blood in his veins, yet his protest when unheard as she pricked her finger and nicked him across the cheek as well. He watched as his forgotten memories were siphoned away to heal her wounds, and she closed her eyes; experiencing whatever the blood echoed to her. **That** was when she chided him playfully for being a "maiden" rather than a man, recalling suspiciously of his untainted chastity. He remembered how he fumed in shame, refusing to believe her for a moment, and in his folly claimed he was just as man as any… even if he couldn't recall it._

 _She nicked him again, taking in more of the echoes before laughing hearted with whatever she saw. She had goaded him that night, stating that a name as feminine as "Sibyll" was fitting for a Hunter like him. Before she knew it, he had wrestled her to the ground and shouted denial. He could prove her that she was a liar and that he wasn't some **boy** or a dainty maiden._

 _She hardly resisted him then, and he faltered (like he did now) when her softened eyes gazed upon him._

 _"Come on then, **prove it**."_

 _Like that young man he was, he fumbled and hardly lasted as long as he hoped. It earned a few more laughs from her, but he was determined to please her if it silenced her for good. The Hunt that night was long, and filled with terrors and creatures they wished to forget for a moment; her guidance and enthusiasm filling the long time between beside that fire. The exchanged and felt each other's memories; the good and the bad. He felt the warmth of summer suns as he did the injuries of Hunts she had gone through alone. It was the only moment he truly felt he knew another person, closer than when they climaxed together and he rested in her tired embrace._

 _"I'm glad to ' **Sie** ' you're actually ' **bold** ' for once," the memory of her echoed. Sibyll could even recall how deeply he groaned at the jest, nudging at her chin with his forehead before he took in the sight of her. Deep, crimson lines where his fingers once scraped against; the red circles on her shoulders, breasts, stomach, and thighs from where he bit her; and the red at her fingertips from when she clawed at his back during their union. His eyes drifted over to the patch of soft earth where they laid together, filled with both satisfaction and guilt. The bites and scrapes was how they shared each other's lives, and while he was thankful for the pleasure and comfort, he felt intrusive to the memories that were hers and hers alone. She followed his eyes to the very same spot, and painfully pinched at his cheek with her firm grip._

 _"Don't let that ruin the moment," Cassandra reminded. "Not many Hunters have the fire you still have, and these marks are nothing that a vial or two should fix. And besides…"_

 _She had pulled him close against her body._

 _"I happen to enjoy my lovers like my prey: feisty and willing to put up a fight."_

 _Sibyll had lain with her once more before the two of them basked under the full moon's light. They would go on to push their journey forward; splitting ways once again when they defeated what he later learned were the Shadows of Yharnam._

 _Cassandra had her work, and he had his._

 _It was the last time he ever saw her._

"I believe that is enough for me tonight," he answered Sylvia. He kissed her gently, surprising her further as he guided her to lie down. The young hunter would spare her that pain, that unnecessary intrusion of her life, knowing that he would somehow lose control if he were to give in. She was still a woman of _**this**_ world, susceptible to the Scourge like anyone else. He wasn't sure if he could temper that desire to avoid hurting her, or if his seed was as tainted as his blood. Sibyll decided to walk on the side of caution, even when his desires strangled his thoughts for otherwise.

"Are you sure? I mean, I don't mind giving you a quick—"

He kissed her cheek, half to silence her support and half to quell the still burning urge.

"Truly, you have done more than enough in ways I have not felt in a while."

He ran his fingers through the tips of her hair.

"The hour grows later, but if you truly are inclined… Could you entreat me with a different request?"

Sylvia slowly nods, and the young hunter stands to disrobe the rest of his clothing. Once as bare and exposed as she, he climbs into bed with her; drawing the blankets over them as he pulls her body close. He slips an arm around her waist, the other across her chest, as he soaks in the warmth of her back. Sibyll buries his face into her hair, humming in contentment where he occasional strokes his hand across her stomach. She settles deeper against him, and they could feel the entirety of the other's body. The scarred chest melded against her back, and it was a welcome presence in comparison to her usually empty bedside. She could still feel that thrum of energy pooling within her, and rather than spend the hours settling into comfort, she would have preferred their earlier fun.

"You're making this awfully difficult for me," she spoke aloud.

"I apologize. If you wish, I can—"

"No, no! That's not what I mean. It's just... are you **_really_** sure? You don't have to hold back for me if you're worried about something."

"I promise I am fine. Your company and warmth here is all that I ask for tonight, nothing more."

"If you say so…"

She couldn't help disguise the disappointment behind those words. It was filled with an underlying need to dominate him, to win this bout between them and establish a victory that ached and yearned for him. She would remind of his place as her _plaything_ , and the role to come (entendre intended again) in the future. She would put him through so much pain, holding so deftly on the edge that no even his begging would bring him the pleasure she could allow. But more than anything, Sylvia ( **Neo** ) wanted to _**feel**_ the full extent of the man she witnessed dominate and restrain her. The same man who gave her so little regard which rivaled hers, and brought to orgasm on his command. She wanted him to put up a fight, struggle for escape, but looking over her shoulder hopefully… she felt him sink his teeth into her shoulder. It wasn't painful, drawing on the injuries or pleasure she was accustomed to, but tender and reminder her of his decision.

"But if you still wish for it, I can continue to please _you_ until you are satisfied."

"It's no fun if I'm getting all the attention!"

"Is that not what you were trying to do all evening?"

She reached over to slap his bare ass, finding satisfaction in the loud smacking noise and the sharp inhale of breath. Oh, if she only brought him to her special room…

"I can be **very** needy," she warned.

"So I am aware."

"And I might ask you for a lot of things in place for what I want; things you may not be familiar and comfortable with..."

"I did say I would try to provide for you as best as I could."

Sylvia turns around to face him, finding his endearment sweet and something to look forward with playing later one. Pushing herself upon him, she could feel the warmth of his girth pressing up against her sweetening folds, stray thoughts filtering in with how easy she could hold him down and mount him. She could even see it in his eyes as the self restraint was being tested, teasing him further with small movements of her hips. She kisses and bites at his bottom lip before moving to his ear, nails raking across his firm cheeks, and she **_purrs_** threateningly…

" _ **Damn right you will.**_ "

* * *

It was a tiring and insightful night for the young hunter whose endurance was tested time and time again. Sylvia had asked for more than a lot, and he accommodated and serviced as best as he could; bringing her about to plentiful climaxes whenever demanded. He had tasted his fill of her nectar, and then some when she placed him various positions of restraints. Sibyll did not take for the sort of a woman to be interested in such play; teasing and tempting him with a few close calls when she started becoming bolder in her advances. He had to tear through the cloth restraints on his wrists for those, but he had pleased her in different ways nonetheless. If there was one thing he agreed to allow her full control of (and she was strongly adamant about fulfilling **_his_** climax), it was something he did not believe was an actual practice here or even in his world. He couldn't deny how luxurious and heavenly he felt when she placed the warmth of her breasts around his member, and pumped him until—

Sylvia stirred in his sleep beside him, curling against his body in the early morning. Light filtered through the windows, hinting the growing dawn, but the young hunter hardly had rest. The woman at his side slept only a few hours ago, and in that time he held her close. The desire for more long passed since his own release, and his thoughts drifted back to his work; things he would have to recount and take stock of again before he left. It had been a surefire way to help him sleep before, but now it simply troubled him to no ends. What sort of trouble did Adam discover? What could he say to persuade this White Fang to surrender to his "mercy" in the infinitesimally small chance they believed him? What was would become of him and Sylvia come the full morning?

He frowned, unsure of the answer to that question. She's an interesting woman whose night was spent not only trying to make up for the infraction on her teammate's behalf, but earnestly wanted to know him; the **real** him. He couldn't entertain the idea of telling her everything he had seen or the truths he knew. But she still made an effort to know and understand him, and he believed in the reasons she sought him out for. It was refreshing to have someone look at _him_ genuinely and not out of fear or suspicion. Whether this was someone he could form anything substantial with remained to be known. They were still different, and he still posed a danger to her and her team in more ways than one.

Sibyll carefully removed himself from Sylvia's side, pulling on clean undergarments and pants, and quietly left the room; his thoughts still running.

He was sure that her feelings for him were blatantly amorous, or at the very least interested in seeing where this could take them. The young hunter doubted that she was a woman who would easily bring others to her bed, and her past accounts told of a plenty of courtship before achieving what they shared last night. Everything about her felt within the moment, spontaneous when he preferred long term planning. Were his feelings the same? Sibyll was not crass enough to be satisfied with only the physical gratification they provided for one another, but it was a serious matter. She was still a stranger to him as he was to her, and he could cleanly break what essentially "could be" if he spoke seriously with her. So why did it not sit well with him?

He gathered the kettle, drawing fresh water from a pitcher, and set about preparing coffee. The young hunter moved about the room, opening windows to allow the morning breeze to drift in, eyes scanning the tree line as always... After kindling a small fire, he places the kettle over the flame and searches through their food stores for breakfast. There was some bread, fresh cheese and fruit, but he scolded himself in forgetting to hunt for fresher game. Hopefully the meager meal would be enough to feed them both.

There couldn't be anything more, could there? He certainly liked her, but by Miss Valkyrie's standards, liking someone didn't usually mean "like-liking" someone (whatever the phrasing meant). Perhaps this was something casual, non-serious, a means to unwind and relieve that tensions Hunting or other activities couldn't achieve. If that were the case, and they both already unwound, what happens next?

His answer came in the form a tired yawn, footsteps moving behind him. Sibyll turns to find her at the doorway, sleepy, and with the blankets wrapped around body as she approached him; resting her head against his chest.

"...mmmm..." She grumbled with slight irritation.

"Good morning," he greeted. "It seems that I am lacking in ingredients for breakfast. I hope you don't mind?"

"...hgrrr..." It didn't sound pleasant.

"And after that, we can begin our return to the academy. I would not want to keep you from your team or studies."

At this, Sylvia shook her head and bit painfully at the flesh before her. Sibyll winces, looking down as she stared back resentfully at the idea he proposed.

"You cannot mean to be absent the _whole_ day, do you?"

She smiled mischievously, and the young hunter is unimpressed. Stepping back, he crosses his arms as he leans against a nearby table.

"Oh? And what do you wish to do in the time you are gone?" he challenged.

The smile grows larger into a crescent grin, pulling open the blankets around her to show him the still naked body underneath. He shifts in his spot nervously as she sways her hips for emphasis, and he felt that rush of warmth at his face. What he felt of her and experienced of her last night did justice to how she looked to him now; gazing admittedly too long at her smooth pale skin, those perky pink nipples, and familiar pink and brown heart shaped—

"Pink and brown?"

Sylvia's eyes grow wide, surprised at his comment, and she quickly covers her body to his quiet dismay. Green eyes looked at him accusingly as the same scarlet colors adorned her features, and she nudged at his ankles angrily with her foot.

"Alright, I understand it was a careless and insensitive thing to ask," he yielded. "Say I agree to your... suggestion. Would your team not worry about your absence?"

She considered it a moment, before his words sunk in. Her enthusiasm grew, only for his firm seriousness to curb those hopeful thoughts away.

"Your suggestion to miss your studies, **_not_** what you currently have in mind."

She puffs her cheeks, pouting under his stern nature before shrugging. It wasn't an answer he was satisfied in hearing, but she hardly attended any of them in the first place. Everything the curriculum had to offer her was useless, based on old ideologies of valor and fairness, and it frustratingly boring. There was nothing she could learn from Beacon or its professors that she hadn't already known from surviving the real world. Her "captain" already decided for Mercury and Emerald to go to the doubles round, and instead of going to see her "other friend" for additional work, she would rather spend the rest of the day testing the young hunter's endurance. If he was _that_ hardy through the night, she wondered what a whole day would show. Maybe she could nudge him to her favorite sort of play where the restraints had a greater role than he knew. Yet leave it to her to wear her semblance out to the where her facade slipped slightly. Rather than to dwell on, she stepped to Sibyll wearing as sultry a look as she could when his hands came to rest upon her shoulders.

"Sylvia."

He was concerned, unsure, and unlike himself.

"I am not ungrateful of your want to stay here longer," he explained. "I simply do not like to entertain the idea of keeping you from the rest of your studies or your team, even if you say otherwise."

She shakes her head to dissuade him, but he is determined to have his say.

"I enjoy your company. I enjoy **you**." He squeezes her shoulder for emphasis. "But I fear that we may be irresponsible in ways that could be detrimental. We still have our duties to fulfill, and I would not want to complicate things for you. So what are we?"

He was serious in asking her the nature of their relationship. Depending on her answer, he would have to return to their initial stance of professionalism or... or? Sylvia's arms wrapped around his waist, the blanket slipping off her shoulders slightly as she looked up to him with a curious look. She was still warm and the young hunter struggled to focus on anything else as spoke.

"Ember wished for all of us to be on good terms, friends even. We could be that."

She stepped forward, trapping him between her and the table behind him..

"Or maybe you're comfortable with being only acquaintances?"

She quick in using his position to climb upon him, forcing him to support her as she level her sight with his.

"Lovers? Enemies? Anything. Nothing."

She nuzzles her face across his cheek.

"We don't have to be particular in what we are _right now_ , but you don't complicate things. Not actively at least."

Her lips brushed against his tenderly, molding themselves together as his hold on her tightened. She could feel his arousal begin to form as she moved to his neck, nipping lazily at his skin. He shivered beneath her breath.

"If it makes you feel better though, I'll check in with the team and go to class."

Sibyll nudged her back to face him, kissing with renewed vigor.

"Thank you," his words murmured against her lips.

She smiled, leaning heavily against him with another tired sigh.

"Do you think a girl can get cleaned up at least before we head out? With the sort of surprise you gave me last night, I'm afraid I might still be sticky in certain places."

"Sylvia!" Despite how dark his skin was, she could clearly see how deep that shade of red burned on his features. His eyes surprised and embarrassed, trying to make sense of the suddenly intimate and confrontational recollection to last night. She savored that look of horror, and pushed his discomfort further.

"What?" she asked him tauntingly. "There's nothing wrong with it! I mean with a 'necklace' that size, it's no wonder you've been pent up."

" **SYLVIA!** "

With a final kiss at his jawline, she helped herself down and looked about the room unapologetically.

"So?"

"...around the back outside. It will be hard to miss such a thing, but I will warn you that water is terribly cold."

"Good to know darling~!"

Dropping the blanket to the ground, she took the young hunter's hand and brought him after her toward the door. He sputtered out in confusion when she looked over her shoulder.

"I kept you warm last night, and I expect that kindness returned. I'll even do that thing you liked so much!"

Turning back to him, she pressed and squeezed her breasts together; adding a tantalizing jiggle to them that she noticed he couldn't look away from. Sylvia noted how breathing quickened, the barely restrained lip bite as he studied her, and how he said nothing as she pulled him willingly along.

* * *

"She's late," Mercury remarked. "And knowing that one, I don't think we're going to see her anytime soon."

"Like we usually never do?" Emerald countered.

Both teens were dressed in Haven Academy uniforms for the day, having as much enthusiasm for their "studies" as they did for intermingling with their peers. They groaned tiredly within their own thoughts, already dreading the boredom that lay ahead, kept it strictly to themselves lest they wish to earn the ire of their leader. Cinder continued to run a fine brush through her raven hair, over and over as her ritual demanded. She too noticed that Neo had yet to return, and while she had not expected her to do so in most cases, she anticipate her return today. Whatever that woman learned of their target would prove useful in drawing him to their side, and gaining a useful ally to their cause.

"She will show," the woman stated confidently. "I would not have to remind her the repercussions of her failure to do so, and I am confident Mister Sibyll would bring her back one way or another."

"How do you figure?" Leave it Mercury to ask about the small details.

"Aside from the fact he's a natural killer, the man has a terrible habit of being precise," Cinder explained. "If his ethics in combat reflect the man outside of it, he will try and convince her to return to us and her studies."

"Which none of us really do," Emerald added. Of course, being one of two people who could disguise or alter the perceptions of others, copying other people's homework was so easy it was insulting.

"In any case, she will be brought back and she will report in on her findings."

As she said this, the door to the dorm unlocked and opened slightly. Cinder was about to greet her returning teammate "warmly" before the door promptly shut itself again. The trio looked to one another, unsure of what transpired and the sudden change of Neo's arrival.

"Mercury, please go check on what's keep out 'friend'," she ordered.

Pushing off the bed, the grey haired teen moved up to the door where he could hear a muffled exchange of voices on the other side.

 _"What? You don't believe me?"_ he heard Neo say.

 _"It is not that I do not believe you, but that I believe this is not an appropriate place to discuss it,"_ Sibyll's voice answered.

 _"It's **fine~**! No one really cares because I'm sure a few of them know what **that** was like. A few of those girls, maybe those guys over there..."_

There is a slight pause in the conversation, prompting Mercury to press his ear to the door. Before Emerald could even ask why, he raises his hand to stop her and focuses.

 _"...you really cannot mean that, do you?"_ Sibyll's voice was barely audible through the door.

 _"I promise it's not as bad as you think. Some people **prefer** it that way."_

 _"In their... mouths?"_

 _"Well, that is certainly one way it's done. Some prefer it **your** way, and I'm **still** impressed with how much it covered my—"_

Mercury pushed himself quickly away from the door, trying very hard to wash out the words that lingered in his thoughts. He didn't have to be as infamously dense as that Arc kid to know exactly what they were talking about. It still didn't detract from the knowledge that Neo and Sibyll had done... **that** within the course of a single night. He had his reservations over the seemingly mute illusionist, but "easy" was certainly not one of them. Whatever that woman planned with Sibyll was all on her own, and if it meant screwing him to their side... by all means he wouldn't try and stop her from that.

Try as he may though, his overstimulated presence with a female dominated brought various flashes that he didn't think would come back to bite him. While his boss never changed around him or Emerald, there were moments he imagined what she may have looked like beneath all the fabric and ego that barred of many people from approaching. Her figured by the curve of her form, Cinder would be a formidable partner if she desired anyone in particular. Emerald on the other hand left some to the imagination, and after his first initial meeting with her, she was frustratingly attractive as she was insufferable to work with. Her preferences for "lighter armor" bared a lot of skin that he admittedly took glances at when it fancied him, more specifically toward her semi-concealed bust. With Neo (whenever she was around), he had learned to always avert his eyes lest he wished to earn more bruises for his trouble. The small woman was the worse of the three, deliberately wearing little to nothing within their dorm, forcing him out most of those times.

They were dangerous women with the skill to end his life, even if he attempted to fight for it.

But Mercury was still a man.

"Mercury," his partner called.

He turns back to Emerald and Cinder, watching him warily as they noticed his sudden surprise and silence. Amber eyes commanded him to speak, and crimson eyes agreed with the former. He could just tell them that they were outside, and of course they would ask him what kept them there. If he answered honestly, they wouldn't believe him and he would have to face his boss and partner's furious indignation. If he lied, they would discover the truth for themselves and he would still be at the brunt of their anger.

"What's going on out there?" this time it was Cinder who spoke.

The words still fell short as his eyes dropped for a very small moment down to their chests, imagining what he did, and back up again.

"They're talking, but I don't think it's best if **I** intrude on them."

He walks over to open the window, and steps over the sill carefully.

"If you need me, I'll be getting breakfast or something."

"Mercury..." Cinder warned, but the boy shook his head.

"Believe me boss, I _really_ don't want to be here for this. I'll meet you in class."

And with that, he drops down from the ledge to catch the one below him, and the many before that. Cinder and Emerald exchange looks, startled that he would essentially run away from whatever was happening outside their door. They knew that the boy picked his battles carefully, and he would never willingly retreat unless he was sure the odds were against him. Cinder nodded for the mint haired girl to check on their "teammate", and she moves quietly to the door. Peering through the spy hole of the door, she found Neo currently occupied with embracing the young hunter intimately. She was dressed differently in clothes that weren't hers, but Emerald focus more on the exchange between the two.

 _"Sylvia..."_ he reminded and pleaded.

 _"Don't mind them. They're just jealous they don't have a Huntsman all to themselves."_

 _"But your team may mind it. Should they suspect anything—"_

 _"They won't. I don't even think they're here right now, probably getting some last minute study in."_

Neo pulls Sibyll lower, their faces inches away from each other, and Emerald could see their attention to anything else dwindle.

 _"We might actually have the room to ourselves..."_

"Enough of this. Move aside Emerald," Cinder spoke as she pulled Emerald back. The mint hair girl had been equally quiet as Mercury once was, and forgetting to warn her leader watched as the door was pried open. Standing on the other side, Sibyll was standing at a respectable distance away from Sylvia (Neo); his hands adjusting her buttons to fit properly and straightening out the collar.

"Ah, good morning Ember, Miss Sustrai." Sibyll greets them cordially, stepping away from Sylvia (Neo) and presenting the women with a bow.

Cinder frowns, looking quickly to Emerald from the corner of her eyes as she leans against the doorway.

"I take it that your evening went well?" She wasn't sure what exactly made her two associate suddenly nervous, but it was safe to pose a general question.

"Very much so. We shared dinner with those of Team RWBY, participated in a few songs, had a few pints before we retired for the night."

"Dinner, show, and drinks huh?" Her attention became focused on the small woman at his side who stuck her tongue out childishly.

"Yes _**mother**_ ," Sylvia (Neo) mocked slightly. "And before you ask, we spent the rest of the night at _his_ place. We talked about a few things, made sure to smooth things over about the stealing situation, and enjoyed a **very** good night's rest."

No one missed the emphasis made at the tail end of her report, and Sibyll coughed sharply to divert as much attention away from the phrasing.

"In any case," he quickly interjected, "there is someone I have to check up on. I shall leave you to your business then, and good morning to you all."

The young hunter gave a slight nod, and turned to leave when a hand quickly pulled him back.

"Wait! You forgot something you left with me."

"Did I _—"_

Cinder and Emerald watched as their teammate pulled Sibyll to her, arms wrapped around his neck as she nursed a farewell kiss. Her lips moved in succession, moving and shaping against his while her tongue flickered out to taste him one last time. His eyes went from shock to a half-lidded expression, his hands resting on her hips and returning the kiss meekly.

"I'll see you at breakfast," she breathed against him. "I'm still _hungry_ and there's something I want to talk to you about. Hopefully when you get back from your work, you can take me out dancing? I know a place~!"

"I will... consider it."

Slowly removing himself from her embrace, he looks over to those watching from the doorway and immediately straightens up under their gaze. With another quick nod, he turns and briskly makes his way toward the dining area where he believes Chisa and Team RWBY would convene. Neo sighs as she watches after him; that self consciously awkward gait, the nervous look to those he passes in the hall, and the hurried pace to seek solace elsewhere.

"Anything you'd like to share with us?"

Cinder carried the perfect intensity of her resentment toward her, and Neo simply walked past her and Emerald into the room; a single finger pressed over her lips in silence. It was better not to kiss and tell, even if she felt the heat of a fire slowly growing at her back. Oh the woman could threaten her all she liked, but it would only goad Neo to vex her further; to leave the woman wondering just how well Sibyll had grown closer to her instead of the team. Still, the illusionist pulled out her scroll and tossed it over to the mint haired groupie. Closing the door behind them, crimson eyes scanned its contents and they were a collection of photos; of his workshop in the Emerald Forest, interior, exterior, the equipment he had out, and most importantly the documents laid out on the desk. Emerald showed the data to Cinder, her eyes scanning it briefly, but it did not ease the temper of the fiery woman.

"Do I have to remind you of your expendability? It would be a shame to send Roman what's left of his partner if she decided to cross us even slightly."

Neo rolls her eyes as she makes a whipping motion with one hand, and an illusory construct with the other. The illusion of a painfully metallic choker appeared around her neck, pointing to her head while making an explosion with her hand, and pointed back to her scroll.

"You mean to break him at some point as a way to control him."

Neo nods and watches as Cinder formulates her thoughts and assessment carefully. When she looks back, the glow within the woman's eyes become brighter as she steps forward to the illusionist; throwing the scroll roughly back at her.

"Luckily enough, your services are needed elsewhere. Go help Torchwick with the final preparations and do **not** come back. You're better suited for the field since your role here is finished."

Catching the scroll mid-air, the Neapolitan theme woman grins widely; the image of a student breaking away to show her true nature. Green eyes switched to pink and brown, as did her hair, and she stood to grab the few things that were hers in the room. Slipping on her boots, turns to the Emerald and Cinder one last time, undoing the buttons of her shirt, and baring the marks Sibyll had left her with; some fresher than the other. She brings up a hand to make a V-shape, her tongue flickering wildly between them as breathy, quiet moans filled the room. Emerald could only step back as Cinder waved her hand quickly, casting a small burst of flame toward the illusionist whose image shattered under the heat.

No longer inside their guest dorm, Neo strolled out of a janitor's closet with her usual disguise in tact. She would return for her things later, but for now she had some last minute business to attend to. She had certainly pushed Cinder this time, and Roman would no doubt have to bear the full force of that firestorm. He would go one lecture her about the risks and rewards, or remind her that their very sensitive cooperation with Cinder could very well be the death of them. Roman was clever and precise when he wanted to be, but he valued his and her life more than the greatest score. But to dangle someone like Sibyll in front of her and **not** do anything? Neo took her gamble and it paid off in the end.

She made her way to the dining area where she was sure to find him, moving out of the way when a blue haired girl ran past; shouting something about vampires? Soon after, the infamous Little Red sped after, hoping to catch the girl in whatever sort of trouble children get into. The distraction helped though as Neo slipped two glasses of untouched orange juice into her hands, searching the open room for her prey. He was currently surrounded by juvenile huntsmen and huntresses, their judgmental stares cornering him in a state of duress. By the way he covered his neck, they must have her love bites and are beginning to question him about it.

It would be a shame if she were to hint at things that would further implicate them both. Sibyll would most definitely plead for her assistance, but she loved the way he squirmed under social pressure. If she was going to be absent from Vale when it all succumbs to fear and chaos, she would have to enjoy as much of his company as she can. Hopefully in the aftermath she would find him again, and be the source of comfort where she could finally ensnare him for good. For now, she would simply add to his misery and enjoy him floundering for a reasonable explanation.

"Sibyll~!"

* * *

 **A/N:** **So, did that do anything for ya?** ***sips from a tall, cool glass of Arnold Palmer***

 **I know that it may not have shown Sibyll going the full bases and the home run dive, but I think that his desires and reasons would often clash even here. He has needs to, wants and desires, but he's aware of what he is and is afraid of doing more harm beyond his control. So instead, I wrote him acquiescing to Neo's demands and pleasing her completely than himself out of concern for going too far (despite my doubts it affecting her to that degree). And while we may not know much about Neo from the canon show, I wanted her to (in a way) meet her match with her sociopathic tendencies. She enjoys hurting others, Sibyll doesn't (overtly or outside the influence of the blood), but I believe they would be formidable opponents (in a fight and between the sheets). I guess I wrote Neo as the underlying temptation of Sibyll's more violent side and the self absolution to overlook a path of constant death. They're two sides of the same coin, and neither of them are perfect.**

 **He almost succumbs to her wiles, and she almost succumbs to the desire of wanting the "other Sibyll".**

 **Had Sibyll given in and gone all the way... Let's just say that Neo and Sibyll's scene would have involved more detail and more time to to write those scenes out with the necessary reference material on hand.** **{I'm sure you all have your own "reference material" as well.}**

 **In any case, I look forward to reading your reviews and feedback for this one-off. For those with a sharp eye, the few nods and throwbacks are there for you as well.**

 **P.s. I used the name "Siebold" after Philip Franz von Siebold, and NOT the Siebold from Pokemon XY.**


End file.
